Chapter Sixty-Six Naomi

Chapter Sixty-Six

Naomi

Friday, May 26, 2023, night of her death

Ben calls me from the gate when he gets to the airport, and the sound of his voice sends a current of longing through my center. How is it possible I miss him already?

I stay in the apartment all day, but needing some air, I leave and head uptown. As the sun sinks toward the horizon, I feel more and more exposed. Every few seconds, I check over my shoulder to make sure no one is following me. I try to focus on the other people, the bodegas and cafés. I imagine moving to the city with Ben after graduation, taking walks like this together. A young interracial couple smiles at me, and I think of Ben’s photography.

I text Ben: Can you teach me how to use your camera?

He replies a second later: Anytime.

I find myself at my favorite little deli uptown, buy a lox bagel and matzo ball soup, and am checking out when I hear the bell jingle with the door and a familiar voice behind me.

“Naomi, is that you?”

I turn to find Cecily standing in line behind me. “Aunt Cecily.” I throw my arms around her, and before I know it, my eyes are pricking with tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, you’re graduating! You should be excited! What’s the matter?”

“It’s not—I can’t—” All my fear and anger in the past weeks fills my throat, and I can’t get out the words.

“Come over, tell me all about it. I made some of that bread you like. And I have that good French butter and Margaret’s raspberry fig jam.”

I look at her. I’ve been feeling so lost. So scared. I could really use her help. I nod.

“Good,” Cecily says, handing the attendant her credit card. After we pay, she puts an arm around me. “Now, come. Tell me everything.”

—

We’re eating in Cecily’s Upper East Side home when my phone buzzes. It’s an email from Marta. I stand and move to the other side of the room as I read: Watch the end first, around four hours in. Then take it to the police.

I quickly download the video to my phone and delete the email to protect Marta. I don’t want anyone, not even the police, to know it came from her.

Cecily watches me from across the room. “What is it? Everything all right? It’s not about graduation, is it? I’m going to miss Reunions tomorrow, but I’ll be there Sunday.”

I take a second to catch my breath. I have to look at the video. “No…it’s about that girl who died…the one who was in Greystone…”

Cecily nods. She’s staring at me now. Standing a few feet away. “What about her?”

But I’m too distracted to answer. I need to watch it now. “I’ve been looking into it—we found some things that make it seem like it wasn’t an accident, and I think we may have just found what we need.”

“You’ve been looking into it?” Cecily stops short. “Show me.” She moves closer.

I scan to the place in the video Marta referenced. It’s the cabin, the same one that was in the background of the photo of my sister and her friends. It’s hard to tell what’s going on—the footage is grainy and dark—but then I see it: the dark outline of a body.

“That’s her,” I say.

The video plays on: the dark cabin. Lila on the floor, a strip of light flickering over her. Is she still alive? I can’t tell.

“Well done, getting this,” Cecily says, and I exhale the breath I’d been holding. “Get some rest. We can—”

“Wait, we need to see what happens.” In the video, a man appears out of the darkness. He’s wearing a ski jacket and holding a shovel. He sets the shovel down and tries to lift Lila off the floor.

My heart races. It’s him. I knew it was him. DuPont struggles with her body, and after a minute, he stops, turning over his shoulder. His mouth is moving, like he’s talking to someone off screen.

“We’ll go to the police first thing tomorrow morning,” Cecily says. “Watch the video with them and my lawyer.” She reaches over and pauses the video. I look up at her, surprised. “Have you told your sister about this?”

“No—no, not yet. I didn’t want to get her involved.”

“Well, you did the right thing. We’ll make sure nothing happens. You’re safe now.”

My heart is fluttering and my hands feel clammy. I think I need to sit down.

“You don’t look good. Let me get you some water.” Cecily disappears into the kitchen and returns with a glass of water, which I gulp down.

Sinking into the couch, I feel a wave of relief, and at the same time a sharp pain in the center of my forehead. “Can I use your bathroom? I think I’m getting a migraine.”

“Of course—you know where it is.”

I go to the bathroom in the hall, but then remember she keeps the Advil in the upstairs bathroom. I yell out from the hall, “I’m going to grab some Advil.”

I don’t hear her respond, but I’ve been here enough times to know where she keeps it. My head is throbbing now, so badly that it makes my vision blur around the edges. I have to grip the railing hard as I make my way upstairs.

When I reach the sink, I splash my face with cold water and lean over the counter, dizzy. My breath sounds animal, ragged and shallow. Maybe I ate something weird. Or maybe it’s a reaction to seeing the video. Seeing Lila murdered. I shudder. I just want to watch the rest and get it over with. God, I hope Maya is innocent in all of this.

After steadying myself, I open Cecily’s medicine cabinet to look for Advil and am riffling through one of the drawers when I happen to glance at the name on one of the prescription pill bottles.

naomi mason—temazepam

I frown. What the hell are my sleeping pills doing in Cecily’s bathroom?

“Naomi?” I hear Cecily call my name from the hall. Her footsteps thudding up the stairs. “Where did you go?”

“Up here.” My mouth is dry.

My neck suddenly feels too hot, and sweat breaks out over my forehead. I turn on the sink and bend my mouth to it, drinking from the tap. I must have stood up too quickly, because the room spins, and I have to grip the edge of the sink so that I don’t fall.

I hear the door open. Her footsteps outside.

I want to run, but there’s nowhere to go. Cecily opens the door. She stares at me, a dark shape, backlit by the light in the hall.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes slip down to the bottle of pills in my hand and her face darkens. She holds out a hand. “Give that to me.”

No no no. This isn’t happening. Not Cecily… My heart is pounding now, but my legs feel like lead. My vision swims, my legs collapsing beneath me. The pills slip from my fingers, clattering to the floor, and the last thing I see before everything goes dark is her long fingers wrapped around a syringe.